


The Long Con

by Digishima



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: And kinda Harry, But he tries., Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kinda, M/M, Max Centric, Max hates Norman Osborn, Other, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter Parker is a bad friend, Point is Peter is a bg char, Strangers to Lovers, again kinda, he really tries, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-04 13:30:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Digishima/pseuds/Digishima
Summary: Max Dillon is sick of Norman making the orders and taking none of the fallout. The youngest of the Six decides it's time to get some revenge by ruining his son and robbing him blind.Of course it couldn't just work out the way he planned. That would be too easy.





	The Long Con

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I love this ship.
> 
> But I HATE ASM2.

It occurs to Max, as he's finding his head connecting with the brick wall behind him and discharging his reserve power into the building, that he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Norman Osborn. The old man had been the one to hire him, fresh out of his technical training and the freak accident that had mutated him into the living battery that he was, and recruited him into a shared villain family. He doesn't know if he'd be better or worse if he hadn't gone along with the Goblin's plans.

He definitely wouldn't be here, having his ass kicked by a preteen in spandex.

There's the hint of an idea forming in the back of Electro's mind as he's bolting away from the scene of the crime while Spider-Man is distracted by the cops. Norman wasn't well known like the rest of the six. He certainly not been arrested as the others had. Maybe he just needed to get closer, get a little revenge. After all, finding work as a supervillain isn't as cracked up to be. Who needed a job when you could just leech money off of your sort of acquaintance's son.

Max limped himself to his ratty little hideout and stripped the suit off. 

He sat down on the squeaky mattress, wincing as he felt a spring stab into his thigh. The place was a small motel room that was charged to one of Norman's side accounts, hidden away from suspicion. The walls were peeling, the lights didn't work but he was basically his own light so he can't complain there, and he could hear the rats in the walls. The place was actually a front for drug and gun smuggling so it didn't need to function as a real motel and with the lack of actual income Max had, he couldn't actually complain.

With a soft grunt, he dropped to lay down on his back, fishing a cracked phone from his pants as he shucked them off to lay in his underwear and mask, phone held up above his face to pull up Google. 

_Harry Osborn._

He's got a few headlines to his name. A social media star to some degree, making the news only for fluff pieces about paying for everyone's meal's in a restaurant, regularly dropping $100 tips, donating all his spare time to helping at F.E.A.S.T. and other such nonprofits. Tabloid posts about a drug addiction that Max vaguely remembered Norman bitching about previously. Something about sending the boy to some fancy European rehab clinic before it was too late and the real news got a hold of the story. Whatever.

Moving on? Social media. Not too difficult when the golden boy was verified. @haroldtheopolis, full of perfectly staged pictures, dolled up in Sunday's best with his hair slicked back just like his father's. He scrolled through the comments, reading the pages of thirst posted by teens and adult women alike, even the occasional man. For whatever reason, call it his nonexistent detective skills, he honed in on a singular comment. 

**penisparker **still can't get used to seeing all these fancy photos from my oscgoldenboi

Oddly specific. Worth a search. And what a search it was. The user 'oscgoldenboi' was a personal account for one Harry Osborn in his natural habitat. The modelesque pictures of him were replaced with shaky photos with generic filters slapped over them. Harry in leather jackets and other punk rock clothing and frizzy, messy hair. Smiling and goofing with friends. It was more natural. Human. Compared to the corporate account.

Max clicked on the most recent picture.

**oscgoldenboi **Ready for the Queens Pride rally? Got my flags, got the perfect outfit, and got friends to go with! Stay safe this weekend!! #queenspride #nypride #gayeveryday

Now that? That was some useful information. Max sat up and looked at the broken dresser filled with his civilian clothes, a card in his name from Osborn and some lose bills. He'd need to go shopping, but now he had a plan. It had taken months. Many, many months before he learned to keep from shocking people to death at a little touch. So long as he kept control of his emotions, he shouldn't have a problem. 

He spends a good few hours running around through the corridors of the only mall that's probably able to match his budget. He pulled a face mask across his cheeks and slipped a pair of gloves on over his hands, and tugging his sleeves up over the edge of his gloves. It was probably a bit suspicious, but he was used to that kind of thing. He wanted to make sure he looked nice. A shirt that clung to his barely there muscles, some tight as fuck jeans to show of his legs and ass, some hair gel to make his curls less frizzy and more controlled. 

It doesn't seem like it's going to be a hard task, Max thinks. It won't be like he's pretending to like Harry, after all. He's an attractive man, with those bright eyes and wild curls. They suit him much better than his appearance as a young clone of his father did. And nothing piqued Max's interest like someone with a thick wallet.

The days leading up to the weekend are spent in the ratty motel, using up his energy to keep himself safe to be in close quarters to. While he's got the time to himself, he studies the private Instagram page. He learns about the movie marathons and metal and rock vinyl collection that only an elite asshole like Osborn could afford. Harry's "crippling" addiction to Chinese food and hot wings. It was an enlightening study to say the least.

He couldn't say the information was useless, he had a few things he could use to get closer to him. If he managed to break the ice with him at all. It was all a list of ifs and buts. But that wasn't going to stop the villain from attempting to.

His reserve settled as he stepped into the blocked off section of street in the heart of NYC that was hosting the Pride Festival, the very end of the Parade route where booths and vendors had set up. He was relatively late to the party. He had needed to spend careful time making sure that his facial scars are carefully covered. It's not too much of a waste, he can tell that things are just getting started.

The crowd is far thicker than he had expected. New York is full of assholes and addicts after all, not to mention all the villains that seem to spend day in and day out trying to best the numerous heroes that make their home in the state. What is it about New York that attracts the crazies? That's a question best left for another day.

It will take a while to find the heir in the crowd, that much is for certain. So Max drops his ID at the beer truck and pays extra for a not so fancy souvenir cup, sipping on it idly and observing the shops. He briefly considered buying a flag, but knew it wouldn't get much use out of it beyond today. He didn't see the rest of the Six taking too kindly to him traipsing into the next meeting with a pink, yellow and blue flag tied around his neck like a cape. Fun idea, though.

Max was, in fact, so distracted thinking about buying that flag, that he walked right into someone and spilled his drink down his own shirt.

"Oh gosh! Fuck, I'm so sorry," the person exclaimed, "I was so distracted, I was trying to look for my friend I wasn't paying attention."

Max ran a hand through his hair as he looked down at none other than Harry Osborn himself. He smiled widely and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, cutie. I wasn't paying attention either."

Harry gave the other man a wary, skeptical look. "Sure...At least let me buy you another drink."

"Nah, no need. I was only drinking to get the cup. And it's better for me to be drinking water anyways." Max shook him off, reaching into his backpack to pull out a half frozen bottle and passing it to the man. "Want one? I have, like, an entire pack in here."

Someone who had been in earshot stepped up to them. She smiled nervously. "Sorry, but did you say you had extra water? Can I buy one?"

Max chuckled and gave her the bottle in his hand. "No charge. They're also giving out free water at the purple tent if you need more." Harry's interest #1: Charitable people. He caught the brunette relaxing his posture at the interaction as the girl thanked him and moved on. He quickly produced another one and successfully handed it off the the rich man. 

"Thanks," Harry breathed out, chugging down the melted water quickly. "What's your name?"

"I'm Max. And who are you?"

Harry seemed slightly taken aback, but his eyes lit up slightly. "You don't know?"

"Sorry, am I supposed to? Have we met before?" Max asked, playing dumb and putting on a worried face.

"Ah, no. I'm Harry. Osborn."

"Hah, like Ozzy?"

Harry smiled a little. "No, like. Oscorp. The company that does all the security tech and laboratory testing and stuff."

"Oh, sorry. I've never really paid attention to that place before. I just think 'Oh, another skyscraper with a company name on it' and keep moving." He rubbed at the back of his next, trying to control the surging in his body from the beer on his skin. "So, you're looking for your friend?"

"Well, we showed up together but I swear Peter disappears every time we try to do something together. He's probably trying to get some exclusive photos of Spider-Man, since he gets his own float in the Parade this year."

"Well, let's make a deal, then. I'll be your rental friend until Peter shows up again. This is Queens, after all. The buddy system is important." He held out his hand. "I'll even throw in some rainbow cake from the bakery down the street. On me."

Harry looked at him for a second before reaching out a hand of his own and shaking Max's. "You've got a deal."


End file.
